


Jailbreak

by faryn_rose



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Prison, F/M, Fluff, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-01 21:50:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8639542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faryn_rose/pseuds/faryn_rose
Summary: The highest ranking criminal has been put under your supervision, and it's been a long time since he's seen a female guard.Gangster Jooheon/Guard Reader





	1. Chapter 1

“Don’t even glance at him. He’s dangerous.” The gruff voice calls beside you. You glance to see Hyunwoo, tall, burly, with muscles seemingly ready to almost pop out if his uniform. He gazes down upon you with serious lines etched into his face and eyes stern. He himself appears terrifying, but as a guard in the top detention facilities in the country, you figure he is needed here. And if he is warning you of a man who is possibly more dangerous, then that is not good. **  
**

“They’ll walk him through. You’re supposed to just stand aside and call in for backup if he tries to escape or attack,” he warns. “It’s the first time they put a female in here, and you’re fairly new… I don’t agree with it, because I’m not sure how he’ll act, but just be careful, okay?” 

Concern flickers across his eyes, and you’re suddenly taken back to the first day of your job in this place, and how he was the first to show you kindness. You feel your heart swell with security, because he’ll be here by your side if anything does happen.

“Okay.”

He smiles, and it makes him look years younger. You would have taken time to appreciate it, if not for the sudden sound of footsteps echoing across the halls and the sudden bursting of the double doors open. Three people appear, two of them guards that seem to have the world’s worth tension stiffening their shoulders. Their arms are clamped around the man standing in the middle, tall and outfitted in an orange jumpsuit. His hair strands appear as if they’ve been dipped in the purest ink and combed back from his stony face. With piercing eyes and a tightened jaw, he looks like everything like a high ranking gang leader to look like-intimidating beyond words.

His narrowed eyes subtly survey the array of guards standing aside as he is forcibly escorted to his cell, but once they land on you, they widen abruptly. His stoic expression shifts entirely into one of complete surprise, and calls his head to turn completely towards you. His lips spread into a smile, a sweet one at that, and does everything to have your heart jumping in your throat. Dimples appear on either of his cheeks and makes your face burn at the realization that this gang leader is, admittedly, adorable. 

But then, he is yanking his handcuffed arms from the grip of the guards beside him, and barreling forward.

Towards you. 

Shouts and cries of orders resound throughout the hallway as you panic and shuffle back as quickly as possible. Your back meets the wall with a frantic thud, your eyes blinking much too often as they try to survey the terrifying scene in front of you.

The guards have restrained him within seconds. Hyunwoo himself has jumped before you to block any attacks and, although the gangster managed to make it a considerable distance towards you, he is now mercilessly being pushed on the floor with five guards pressing their limbs into his back.

And yet, he is still smiling at you.

“Ow, gentlemen, please! I just wanted to introduce myself to the lady.” His smile is interrupted by winces of pain before they are finally ready to stand him up again. His hair is tousled, jumpsuit wrinkled, but the dimpled smile has not changed. He winks.

“I am Jooheon. Pleased to meet you, miss.”

One of the guards knees him in the gut, sending him keeling with another groan of pain. “Shut up and keep walking,” he spits, and just like that, the back of his orange jumpsuit is meeting your eyes as they quickly usher him out the door. 

You don’t notice that you’ve been staring at the door for too long until Hyunwoo appears in front of you. His eyes are filled with worry, features twisting with concern.

“Are you alright?”

You nod, blinking out of your daze. “Yes, I’m fine.”

His alarmed eyes scan your face. “I told you not to even look at him. No one knows what’s going inside his head.”

You nod again mutely, not realizing your heart is still pounding from the aftereffects of the show you just witnessed. You promise him, and yourself, to not do it again. 

Until, of course, you are assigned food and guard duty for none other than prisoner 411468, otherwise known as Jooheon.

Hyunwoo protests with the head guards resolutely, pressing that you don’t have the required training to deal with such a high-ranking criminal like him, and even asks to replace you, but his efforts are fruitless.

Jooheon, you find out, has been assigned to the heavily fortified cell in a secluded part of the facility. His is the only one in a single, protected room, monitored by two guards at all times. Other prisoners, you’ve discovered, usually bang against their cell bars, spit out a flurry of curses or taunts, and make it very well know that they simply do not want to be here.

But here, in the empty room in which you stand, there is only a single, fortified door you need watch over. You can see through the small window that Jooheon simply sits behind the metal door in his chair, leaning slightly forward, with arms strewn out across his knees, and staring, unblinkingly.

At you.

He smirks sometimes, only when you make eye contact with him that leaves your skin tingling, but you make sure to keep your gaze directed at the wall. You want to ignore the way his obsidian orbs spread heat through your frame, but you cannot, so you settle for reminding yourself that he’s a gangster instead.

When you glance back, you realize, with a sudden thundering of your heart, that he is standing by the door now. This time, however, peculiar pout has shaped his lips as he taps on the glass. 

“Jooheonnie is hungry.” 

His voice is severely muffled and only reaches you through the air holes of the door. Looks are exchanged with the other male guard that has been assigned to watch over him. He raises an eyebrow.

“Do you want me to get his food?” He asks, but you already feel your answer forming on your tongue.

“No, I can do it,” you reply, feet already moving to have your frame half-way out of the room.

When you return, you find that your co-guard has fallen asleep in his chair, and that Jooheon is still smiling at you through the thick glass window. With hesitation commanding your bones, you approach the metal door without a glance at him, and slide open a small compartment to place his tray in. You slide it inside, and shut it as quickly as possible. Your face burns, your skin tingles, because you can feel his eyes on you, but you walk back to your original position against the wall and fall into your stern, guard pose there. You spare him a fleeting glance.

He is pouting again. 

“Aw, you’re not going to talk to me? It gets boring here, you know?” He drawls, leaning his forehead against the glass with disappointment etched into his features. You don’t respond. 

Eventually, he sticks his spoon into his food that looks like bean paste with a loud sigh, and eats it reluctantly. 

“Have you been here long? I think it’s a nice change having a female guard. The guys are always so cold and serious.” He makes a face of disapproval that is so ridiculously exaggerated, it has the edges of your lips fighting not to curl into a smile. His expression suddenly falls away at the sight of it, and a bright grin crosses his lips. 

“You’re smiling! Ha. I knew I could do it,” he tells himself proudly, attention shifting back to his tray. He digs into his food more animatedly now, voice starting up to hum a happy tune, head slightly nodding with the melody. You try hard not to find it likeable, but you fail, so you settle for reminding yourself that he is a gang leader instead.

“Life is tough on the streets,” he speaks with food stuffed into his mouth, as if having read your mind. “You have to fight your way up to survive and then, you have a dozen boys depending on you. Then you slip up, you get caught and you end up here. But the only punishment of this sparkling place with timed meals and a warm bed is you don’t know what’s happening outside. If your boys need you. They probably do, because they can’t take care of themselves on their own. Knowing that is the real torture.” He glances up at you so seriously for a moment, commanding the air to still completely around you. You can see fire in his eyes, loud and untamed, before it is dimming considerably as he seems to remember himself.  He soon returns to his food, humming away his happy tune once again.

You wonder if he is trying to make you feel sorry for him. If so, you hope he doesn’t succeed. 

“What about you? Do you have it hard here, as a lady?” His eyes are inquisitive, innocently curious and put you at such ease that you find yourself replying without a second thought.

“A little.”

His eyes light up at your answer, as if any little response or attention you give to him is something he can feed off of. You try not to speculate why, and instead focus on the fact that he is smiling again. Your face flushes and your eyes find the tiles of the floor.  

“One of those guards was very keen on defending you. The tall, big one with black hair.” He waves his spoon around in the empty air before his head. “He wants to protect you. I wish I had someone like that.” 

You direct your eyes back to the floor. “Someone to protect or to protect you?” You ask, eyes disobeying once again to find him lost in deep thought.

“Hmm…both would be nice.” He smiles sweetly again, flashing those dimples before resuming his eating. You try to find him careless for getting food on his cheek.

When you take back his tray after he’s finished and he yawns while settling into bed, you wonder what he’d do if there are no bars separating the both of you.

You find your answer a week later, when the guards are transporting him to another cell without your knowledge. You are just rounding the corner of a hallway upon having entered the building, but the sudden sound of scuffling shoes and shouts and, eventually, punches being landed had you freezing. 

You force yourself to sprint around the corner, ready to call for backup with a walkie talkie in hand, but the sight before you stops you in your tracks.

Jooheon is standing over two guards writhing on the ground in pain, hands clutching their noses or attempting to reach for their walkie talkies tocall for help call for help. He glances over to you the same time you try process the situation, b, and his eyes light up again, with more vigorous fire than you’ve seen.

You don’t register that he has walked the distance separating you both until his palm are cupping your cheeks and his lips are crashing to yours. Everything stops as the pounding of your heart floods your ears, warmth curls in your chest, and your mind vaguely registers that there is something terribly, terribly wrong with this situation.

But you are too lost in the way he so deeply kisses you, his lips tinted with the taste of cinnamon and something else that is sweet, addictive. You find that your hands have curled loosely around his wrists in an initial attempt to pry them off your face, but having no will at all to do so.

You don’t know how much time passes before there is a shout echoing from behind him and he is suddenly being yanked off of you. The disappearing warmth thrusts you into reality long enough for you to process an enraged Hyunwoo throwing Jooheon onto the ground. He then straddles the criminal with a part of his jumpsuit bunced up in his fist. Jooheon seems entirely unphased and is still smiling at you, which only enrages the guard even more. 

“Do you harass women now, too!?” Hyunwoo roars, but the criminal simply curls his fingers around the guard’s wrist, his dimpled smile unwavering. 

“At least  _you_  never- oof!” 

You realize then that Hyunwoo’s hand has connected to Jooheon’s jaw at the same time the flood of footsteps spilling from the corridor signals the onslaught of more guards. It takes about ten of them to pry your friend off of the gangster and prevent his fist from reconnecting with Jooheon’s face again.

When both of them are pulled apart, you feel shame burn pink upon your cheeks. You failed. You did not call for backup fast enough, you did not stop him fast enough, and what’s more, you did not exactly want him to stop. All of your careless actions resulted in the scene before you, with Jooheon’s ever-present smile still there, eyes on you, and a disheveled Hyunwoo growing angrier each second you are in the gangster’s line of sight. 

You learn a week later that Hyunwoo is facing disciplinary actions for attacking a prisoner without merit, and that you are no longer Jooheon’s prison guard. The touch of his lips, however, are a haunting reminder, and swirls guilt, confusion, and even more guilt within you as to why you enjoyed it so much, why you didn’t call for help or pry him off or do something?

You are assigned to another site of the facility, an array of low-risk, nonviolent criminals housed in barred cells that you find completely and utterly boring. There are no attempts at conversations here, no easy meal times and certainly no dimpled smiles. There are only glares and lewd comments, but nothing that isn’t part of the job. Of course, you find it ridiculous that you long for the company of one of the most dangerous criminals in the city, but you gave up on trying to understand your emotions a long time ago.

And when the red sirens along the walls suddenly awaken one day, thrumming and splashing the walls with the color of blood and the the robotic male words emergency, repeating over and over again, you are not surprised. 

The only thing it could mean is a prisoner escape, something you and all the other guards and criminals knew very, very well. You sprint throughout the halls with whoops and hollers from the other jailed men calling for freedom. 

When the intercom tells you that the area of emergency is what you know to be Jooheon’s cell, you are not surprised. However, you find that you’ve gotten there a bit too late, that the area has been locked down and closed off, probably to reduce the chances of his complete escape from the detention facility itself, no matter how he’s managed to do it already from his cell. 

You sprint instead to the surveillance room filled with television screens hooked onto the security cameras outside, a room that has been left foolishly empty in the entire commotion. Your eyes are running, running through each small screen crackling in response back at you, and finally spot a figure in orange. The picture is grainy, but its identity is unmistakable to your eyes. 

He is sneaking through the piles of garbage bags in a hidden dumpster, grappling at the sides of the walls and finally jumping over the container. His feet land on the asphalt with certainty, and glances over his shoulder, peering directly at the lens of the security camera watching him faithfully. A smile forms on his face, one with dimples etched to the skin, as if he is aware who is watching. Then, he sprints off then, leaving you and the prison behind in his dust.

The scene then returns to normal, empty, as if nothing has ever changed. And when a fellow guard barges into the room, breathless, you are not surprised. You knew someone would come here as a last resort instead of the first, after they couldn’t find their escaped prisoner anywhere in this entire place. 

And when he asks if you’ve seen anything on the cameras, you are not surprised by the answer you give, either. 

“No.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise part 2, but I don't believe I will be making anymore ;_; Hope you enjoy!

It has been a year since you’ve seen the face of the demon who never really seemed like a demon to you, one whole year since you’ve stepped inside that detention facility he escaped from, one year of nightmares and guilt gnawing on the pit of your stomach as you watched police investigations and searches for one of the most wanted men in the city. **  
**

You quit your job not too long after Jooheon’s escape, unable to trust yourself to act for the interests of the public anymore; you were utterly selfish in letting him go and the guilt that has built up is something you know you deserve. The police found the video footage from the security cameras of him escaping through the dumpsters, but decided not to question you. They figured you just missed the three-second scene of him escaping, out of the twenty cameras that were there, and went on about their investigation. You had a clean record after all, and were trusted by everyone in the facility. However, you know now that your actions on that day were crucial in giving him enough time to escape and completely dodge the police radar for nearly a year.

But flash of his face in your memories and you cannot bring yourself to regret a single thing.

You try to carry on with your life, with a strange mixture of guilt and no inklings of regret settled in the pit of your stomach. You find a job in a charming cafe in the heart of the city whose storefront melts all your worries away. However, they never go away completely, and you worry that your guilt has gotten bad enough to make you start seeing things.

It only happens when the city sidewalks are crowded and bustling with people and the streets are flushed with honking cars and impatient pedestrians. You see him within the crowd across the street like a ghostly presence, dressed in a black hoodie and loose jeans. His identity can be indiscernible for any regular person walking by except, of course, for you. He stands stagnant behind the stream of people rushing this way and that, hood low enough to cast shadows upon his face, but not enough to cover the glint in his eyes, or the small smile upon his lips.

You are positive you are hallucinating, and sure enough, when you rub your eyes and look again, he is gone. You force yourself to think nothing of it and move on.

One day, your work as a barista during a holiday rush demands you to close up the store later than usual, just before midnight. So, that is how you find yourself so, so foolishly walking throughout emptied streets in the later hours of the night, in the effort to try and get home quickly. It’s only when you turn the corner into a different street do you hear a distant click and freeze completely.

A gun. 

“Money.”

The voice is gruff, angry. You immediately fumble with your purse slung over your shoulder, almost eager to give it away if it meant getting home alive. You hold the bag out to your side, and he quickly snatches it from your grip. Your eyelids are squeezed shut, heart thundering, and thoughts racing with prayers for him to just leave you. But the pause in movement that follows and the touch of the cool gun to the underside of your jaw has them shattering completely.

The nose of the gun digs harshly into your skin as a chest presses to your back and an arm snakes around your waist to hold you in a vice grip. You whimper. 

“N-no, please-”

“Shut up,” he snarls into your ears, making you flinch violently, but the sudden click of another gun has you both freezing.

“Get the fuck off of her.”

Your heart stops. 

The voice is familiar, so, so familiar, in fact, that it has a shudder wracking your frame. There is a lull in the air filled with silence and suffocating tension before the tense hands on your body are disappearing. You sense the man backing away slowly, allowing a sweep of cool air to meet your body. You chance your luck, and your bravery, and turn your head to identify your savior.

It is the familiar hooded figure you’ve seen countless times before, and you resist the urge to rub your eyes to confirm if he is real. A cap is tucked under his hoodie that covers more of his face this time, but his familiar lips are pulled into a snarl. His orbs of obsidian cut through the shadows and glare as the man steps a good, good distance away from you with this hands up. He forces out a nervous, choked laugh.

“H-hey, you can-”

_BANG._

The man drops to the ground, mouth having fallen open as if in shock, blood spilling out of his head. You would have screamed if you aren’t so used to this harrowing scene in your prior job as a prison guard in rotation with police and security roles. But you are still shaken, with wide, unblinking eyes darting over the now limp, bloody mess upon the ground. Your eyes fly to the other man whose hand is still outstretched with the gun. He appears to have no facial expression, but the fingers curled around the trigger have gone nearly white at the force of his grip.

You can recognize his face completely now, and it has electricity shooting through your nerves.

“You came back,” you whisper, voice cutting through the midnight air still rippling with the retreating sound of the gunshot, and calling his midnight irises to focus on you.

“You should go home.”

And with that, he is turning around, the back of his onyx sweatshirt meeting your eyes as he treks off down the alleyway corner, and vanishes into the night. You can’t move for a good while; only a glance at the dead body is strong enough to get you stumbling and speeding for home.

A few weeks, and many more sleepless nights later, you see his hooded figure walking through the streets, blending into the bustling crowd, but never out of sight by your eyes. You’ve just stepped out of the cafe for a break, but the sight of his dark hoodie has your legs moving immediately, speeding throughout the crowd to catch up to him. You are not going to lose him again. You are not sure why you want to keep in touch with a wanted criminal, but you’ve learned not to try to understand your emotions a long time ago, especially when it comes to him.

He seems to have gotten a glance at your approaching frame over his shoulder and speeds up, weaving in and out of the crowd, around people, across the street and across two more until your legs are burning to keep up without sprinting and your eyes are hurting in trying to keep track of his frame. He falls left into an alleyway and you follow shortly afterwards without so much as a second thought. 

Initially, there is no one waiting for you when you enter the dark and empty forgotten space wedged between two buildings and occupied only by the stench of its dumpsters.

“Couldn’t stay away, kitten?”

You whip around at the voice that sends chills down your body, and causes it nearly give way when you find his form. He has slipped off his hoodie, to allow you the full sight of his face this time, the one that has been haunting your thoughts for a year. The fire in his gaze is stronger than you remember and each step he takes closer to you has you burning a little bit more, but you don’t mind at all. 

You try to remind yourself that he is the most dangerous criminal in the city, that he shot a man point blank in front of you, that there is a massive, massive police manhunt for him in all corners of the city at this instant. But, just like the other times, it does not steer you away; it never does. In fact, it steers you closer. 

You like the ruby aura of danger that seems to cling to him and you want more of it. You want more of him. 

He does not stop walking towards you until the drawstrings of his hoodie brushes against your jacket and his burning eyes are peering down at you in silence. He doesn’t speak or move or do anything for seconds, but you feel yourself falling under his trance. 

“You’re a wanted man,” you hear yourself say. 

His lips quirk, dimples revealing themselves shyly. “Turn me in then.”

You blink in surprise, not having expected that answer. His voice is stealing away your thoughts in the next second.

“But you won’t do that. You’d never do that. It would be the last thing you’d do,” he speaks quietly, with certainty, eyes burning into yours. He is right, you  _know_  he is right, and his smile widens when he realizes so. 

Your cheeks flush. “Why are you here? You knew I would follow, so why did you come for me?”

You watch his eyebrows raise slightly at you having figured him out and sighs. His eyes break the searing contact from yours to focus on something off in the distance. They seem slightly troubled now, not the usual, deadly calm they always are, and focus back on you. 

“I need a favor. One of my friends was put in the prison. The same one I was in. I need you to help me get him out.”

“Oh.” Your heart falls. So, he came here because he needed something from you. You force out a breathy laugh. “I can’t. I quit. I haven’t been there in a year. They updated the security system since you escaped, and that’s all I know.”

His eyes narrow. “What about your friend that you meet up with by that coffee shop? He still works at the prison, right?”

You eyebrows furrow. Hyunwoo? “How do you-”

“You can get the info about the prison security out of him and then tell me.” He seems so confident now, as if giving orders to a member part of his gang, and leaves you struggling to find words.

“I can’t just…I can’t-”

“Listen, on one of your next little coffee dates, just ask him as if you’re curious, alright? You don’t notice that he’s too in love with you to not tell you anything you ask of him. Then, just meet me here at noon and tell me what he said. Any type of information about that place is valuable. Just leave the rest up to me.”

You stare at him. “You’re asking me to lie to him and help you free a criminal?”

He tilts his head back and laughs lightly. “Listen, kitten. You don’t really have room to speak. You are lying to his face everyday by not telling him you let me get away.”

Your lips purse shut at that, more in shock of how he figured out that you failed to report him rather than guilt. In fact, you don’t even know how he’s been keeping tabs on your meetings with Hyunwoo, or how he even escaped the prison in the first place.

It is scary how he seems to know everything and the more you think, the more unsightly all of this becomes. 

He still gazes at you with his piercing eyes. “Now, you can help me, or not. But if you don’t, I’ll have to look elsewhere for help. And you won’t be seeing me ever again.”

Lead immediately fills your chest at his words, heavy and unbearable at the prospect. His eyes examine you so very carefully, flitting over each of your facial expressions as soon as the last word leaves his lips.

“But you don’t want that at all,” his observes, words softer now. His fingers come up to hold your chin in their grip, forcing you to suck in a breath at the contact. His eyes are filled to the brim with seriousness, flitting over each feature of your face. 

“You’re already mine.”

It isn’t so much as a declaration than a neutral observance. Nonetheless, heat floods you without mercy and turns your knees weak under his gaze, and the rush of realizing he can break you in his grip at any second makes it frustratedly, unbelievably better. He smiles at the flutter of your lashes at his words, knowing full well that he already has you wrapped around all of his fingers. 

He appears deadly, but the caress of his fingers is gentle, moving upward towards your cheek, face coming closer so that his lips hover over yours. Heat flushes violently throughout your cheeks, and you grasp his elbows in a silent plea as your eyes drink in each other’s as if starved. 

“Will you help me?” His lips ghost over yours, spilling the whisper, and you find yourself answering without hesitation.

“Yes.”

He grins with satisfaction, almost in pride at your answer. His touch falls away in the next instant as he steps away, leaving cold sweeping over you immediately.

“Good. Talk to him. I’ll be waiting here, noon, tomorrow.”

And with that, he offers a last smirk, slipping his hood over his eyes and turning around to disappear into the city streets once again. 

* * *

“Y/n?”

“Hyunwoo.”

The boy smiles brightly as you approach him outside the cafe in your usual meeting place for lunch. Your eyes dart to the bouquet in his arms, and he stutters for a bit as if realizing they are really there. He thrusts it out to you, cheeks flushing slightly.

“I, uh, got you flowers.”

You feel guilty as you fake a smile. “Thank you so much, they are beautiful.”

He seems to preen at the compliment as you take the bouquet from his grip before finding a table outside to seat yourself. The atmosphere is pleasant with warm breeze and the comforting chatter of nearby customers, even though Jooheon weighs heavily on your mind. 

“So, how’s the prison without me?” You breathe once he sits down, and don’t fail to notice the flash of hurt in his eyes. 

“Boring. You should come back.”

You wince. “It’s not an charming place to work at.”

He doesn’t seem satisfied. “You didn’t complain before. I know it was that gangster’s escape that spooked you off, but don’t worry, the security is better now.”

You don’t skip a beat. “How so?”

He leans forward, fingers counting off each provision he lists. “More guards situated inside and outside the building; more patrols in the hallways, shock collars for the really, _really_  bad ones who try to pick a fight, and, oh, each guard has a card that is digitally identified by a card reader when leaving or entering the building.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “How is that any better than using keys?”

“Fancier, I guess,” he shrugs.

You scoff a laugh, noticing the way his lips curl into one has well at the sight. In your mind, however, you work to memorize these things, to plan to tell Jooheon of everything as soon as Hyunwoo’s back is turned. You feel guilt tug on your heart, and then entirely take your senses captive throughout the rest of the conversation that included topics about the weather, the coffee, the things that are meaningless compared to what you are doing.

You decide to end the meeting early, spewing some excuse at his innocently disappointed face about having to get back to work because of the winter rush. He nods in understanding, his darting eyes and pink cheeks hinting that he has some more unspoken words resting on the tip of his tongue, but you usher him off in a hurry before he can say any of them.

When you are met with Jooheon’s face in the same alley and not a minute too late, you falter in your words. The guilt that has gnawed on your insides for the entire duration of the meeting, or date, with Hyunwoo washes away completely when the gangster’s expectant, dark eyes fall on yours. Then, you find yourself telling him everything you discovered, word for word, finishing only when he laughs, eyes twinkling.

“Good job, kitten. This will be easier than I thought.”

You hate how good you feel hearing his praise, but at the same time, you don’t hate it. 

His eyes turn serious again. “Can you ask him what cell my friend is being held in?” 

You already feel the words of refusal forming on your tongue, but his words cut you off. “I know it’s a long shot, but, I know you can pull it off, kitten.” His words are filled with confidence, eyes peering into your with a hint of pleading. When his hand comes to stroke the length of your hair, travelling down to pinch the end of a lock between his fingers, all of your objections vanish. He twirls your hair in his grip expectantly, waiting for your answer.

“Alright.”

He smiles fully this time, dimples and all, as if rewarding you for your valiant, illegal efforts. You do feel rewarded, though, if it meant seeing him smile like this more often. 

Like yesterday, his grasp slips from yours as soon as the conversation is done and you’ve agreed to do your part. 

“I’ll meet you here again, then. Good luck, kitten,” he calls, turning around to exit the alley. You would have forced yourself to ask him the most crucial piece of information of this mission earlier if you haven’t been so dazed.

“W-wait! What is your friend’s name?” 

He glances over his shoulder, offering one last smile before disappearing into the street. 

“Changkyun.”

* * *

“You want to know what  _cell_  he is in?”

Hyunwoo’s bewildered face is the exact reason you didn’t even want to attempt this in the first place. But your poor excuse seems reasonable enough to push through his confusion. 

“I heard from the police investigation on television that this guy is part of Jooheon’s gang. If I’m thinking about coming back to the prison, I want to make sure I’m not assigned wherever he is being kept.” You rub your arms. “I’m still….afraid.”

His eyes soften immediately, irises darting over every feature of yours twisted in mock fear. “Yes, of course. But…I’m surprised you changed your mind so quickly. Are you sure you want to come back?”

You nod. “After you explained the security update, I felt better about coming back. Besides, I… miss you.”

You grit your teeth at the lie, at the way he blinks in innocent surprise, and then flushes deeply, a warm smile crossing his face with shy eyes darting down to his fiddling fingers.

“Cell one eighty.” His voice cut through the air, and you notice he peers at you with sincerity. “Third floor. You know the-”

“The same floor they kept Jooheon, I know. Thank you.”

He smiles again, and this time, the guilt rolls over you harder. You are using his affection to help a criminal who will help another criminal escape. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry at this thought when you go to see Jooheon, but, again, the sight of his expectant eyes vanquishes all guilt from your system.

“Cell one eighty? You worked your magic perfectly, kitten,” he laughs. 

“Y/n.”

His smile melts away as he blinks in confusion. “What?”

“My name.”

You don’t miss the comprehension that washes over his face, nor the glimmer in his eyes at the sound of the word.

“Alright, Y/n.” Your skin buzzes at the sound of his voice shaping the word. “I have all I need to finish this. Thank you.”

And with that, he is turning away and spilling ice into your body. 

Is he walking away, just like that?

“W-wait,” you say, hand shooting out to grab his forearm. His eyes flash when he glances over his shoulder, obviously not used to having people touch him so carelessly, but soften at your conflicted expression.

“How exactly will you help him escape?”

He blinks. “Let’s just say being a gang leader has its benefits.”

The words are hopelessly vague, but you grasp at anything to make him stay a bit longer.

“How…how did  _you_  escape?”

He grins this time. “That’s a long story for another time, kitt-Y/n.” He gives the slightest nod, something you assume is his version of a goodbye before his arm is slipping out of your grasp.

You wordlessly watch him trek to the other end of the alley, with turbulent thoughts contemplating if this would be the last time you see him, if you’ve been absolutely nothing more to him than a pawn in his plan. 

Your thoughts grind to a halt when he calls over his shoulder. “Oh, and, Y/n.” You catch the glint of his eyes and the final smirk of his lips.

“Meet me here at noon tomorrow.”

* * *

When you arrive at the same alley the next day, you don’t expect the royal blue sedan parked by the curb suspiciously too close by. It’s headlights seem to watch you as you wait for Jooheon, and determine the first words you say to him when he finally appears. 

“Did you bring a car?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He flashes a grin. “Because we’re going to pick him up.”

Your heart falls to your stomach, heartbeat quickening the slightest bit. He is suggesting that you help free his friend, that you actively aid and abet two gangsters. 

His sudden scoff shatters your thoughts. “Don’t give me that face, kitten. You’re already a criminal.”

You swallow, mind flashing over all the charges that could be brought against you at this very instant. He is right, obviously. 

He watches you carefully. “The police will find out soon how Changkyun escaped, how information of his cell was never given to the public except, of course, for you. You will be questioned and… something tells me you won’t last under their interrogation,” he speaks, his head tilting slightly. “I won’t force you to come with me. I’m just saying it will be safer if you’re by my side.”

“Yes.”

He blinks at your abrupt answer, obsidian irises searching for your face before his parted mouth is melting away into a smile, then a disbelieving laugh. “You really have the cahoots for me, don’t you?”

You flush at his words, forcing yourself to accept the reality of the situation, already determined all that time ago when you failed to tell anyone of his escape. You’ve already made the decision to be a criminal, but to act as one by his side makes it sickeningly better.

“Let’s go pick up our friend, then.”

The route is familiar; all the roads Jooheon drives through are the very same ones you used to take when you were still employed at the prison. Just the sight of the building has guilt flooding your stomach, but, with irony of superb proportions, the presence of Jooheon in the driver’s seat sitting beside you makes you feel better. 

You notice that he diverges off of the main road and onto a smaller dirt road that leads through a small, sparsely wooded area. It leads directly to the large, grassy compound in the backyard of the facility, and is extensively with covered with fence and barbed wire. He parks a far distance away along the road and mumbles for you to follow him out, and to stay low while doing so.

Your heart hammers in your chest when you slip out of your seat and trail behind Jooheon who is already crouching slightly. You weave your way through bushes and branches with the sight of the building in the distance and the more intimidating one of the guard outposts in your field of view. The thought of getting caught is so terrifying it threatens to make you dizzy, but the confidence Jooheon has shown you with his unspoken plan of escape helps to ease your mind.

The gangster stops in front of a particularly large bush and crouches down, with a motioning hand in the air urging for you to do the same. You obey, noticing the barbed fence and the edge of the prison territory is only about three hundred feet away. 

Jooheon turns to you with a hushed voice. “We have to wait here until he shows up.”

Your eyebrows furrow immediately, eyes darting from him to the fence and back. “Wait, he’s just going to escape by himself and get past the security and the fence?”

Instead of answering you directly, like always, he smiles as if you’ve amused him. “You ask too many questions, kitten. I told you not to worry about it.” 

You take that as a  _yes_ , and spend the rest of the time contemplating exactly how elaborate his plan of jailbreak is. You eventually get bored with the silence and unproductive thinking, favoring to watch him peering calculatively through the bushes without fail, and listen to the sound of birds chirping and leaves rustling. You eventually turn to your memories, a very bad mistake, and blurt out the first question that comes to your mind.

“Why did you kiss me that time in the prison?”

His head snaps to you, eyes blinking in surprise before they are narrowing, as if recounting the memory in full. After a few seconds of tense silence, a smirk cross his lips.

“I don’t know if you’ve seen yourself, kitten, but you are beautiful.” He breathes a laugh, eyes trailing your face and sending heat through your cheeks. “And if anything, I thought the kiss of an angel like you could grant some divine mercy on a terrible man like me,” he says, turning back to peer through the pine, as if having answered the simplest question in the world.

You chew your lip. “Are you sure you didn’t do it because you wanted to charm a female guard so that she’d help you or your friends escape, in case they ended up in that prison again?”

You watch his eyelids flutter closed and another smile cross his lips. You expect him to admit that you’ve figured him out, but he only turns to you with inquisitive, confident eyes.

“Is that all it felt like to you?”

You stare mutely at him, mind flashing back to his lips pressing insistently on yours, but lenient enough for you to pull away, even though you never did. Or how nice his hands felt cupping your cheeks, how terrifying it was that he was classified as a highly dangerous criminal who’d just beaten up two guards, but made it that much more exciting. He conveyed some need for freedom through his kiss, and you did, too, an exchange of some sort between two unlikely souls.

He needed you to give you physical freedom and you needed him to give you a freedom through emotion–a break in your mundane life, no matter how twisted it sounds. 

“No, it didn’t feel that way,” you say abruptly. His hardened features seem to relax at your answer, but you continue speaking. “But it may have been to you. A kiss, another part of your plan, another way of using people to survive,” you say, watching him blink mutely. 

Your words hold no malice, mainly because you both are to blame. You gave each other exactly what you wanted, an exchange of freedom, and that is that. You know, though, that while he can forget you after his friend is freed, you cannot do the same. You have hopelessly fallen for the way he acts as the manifestation of danger and adventure, and know that no matter what he asks of you, you will not hesitate to bend to his will.

“Either way, I don’t mind at all. I can’t mind. For you, I– _mmpf!_ ”

You barely register that he has grasped the nape of your neck and crashed his lips onto yours. The touch of his soft lips once again commands your cheeks to flush and mouth to part, to melt against him entirely. He pulls away too early, leaving your lips chasing his, but he gazes at you with sincerity.

“I don’t think I’ve said this before kitten, but thank you. And….although using you might have been my original intention, you really did seem like an angel to me, and you still do,” he breathes, eyes trailing your face. “It’s not that hard for you to make this soulless man feel something,even in his efforts to be selfish.”

You, however, have no care for his poetic words when your body is buzzing this much in his embrace, and merely whine and tug his collar impatiently. He laughs, deciding to grant you mercy and allow his lips to fall over yours again. 

Your hands find his arms, his shoulders, his hair as you kiss each other as if having been absolutely starved for a year. He tastes just as addictive as you remember, and it only makes you more desperate for him. His hand has tangled in your hair, tongue pushing through the seam of your lips, effectively working out any air from your lungs for good.

“Am I interrupting?”

You tear apart from each other with heavy gasps and thundering hearts. You glance at the figure peering down at you both over the bush, and fear for a horrible moment that you’ve been found. But his guard uniform looks as if it’s been hastily worn over his frame, and his hand holds a set of pliers and a card. 

“Changkyun,” Jooheon greets, voice gruff as he stands up. You follow his movements, embarrassment and confusion burning into your cheeks at having been caught in  _this_ way. Jooheon nods to you, demeanor falling expertly back into his usual stoicness.“This is Y/n. She helped me help you.”

The boy eyes you inquisitively, eyes darting between you and Jooheon and back. He stands at average height, dark hair tousled and features handsome. He could have seemed threatening if anxiety wasn’t twisting his features. “I suppose I should say thank you. But we have to hurry, there are-”

You hear shouting in the distance, sirens suddenly sounding with urgency, the familiar words of  _emergency_ resounding throughout the compound. In the next second, Jooheon’s hand is grasping yours and three pairs of legs are stumbling, sprinting for the trees with desperation lacing your limbs. You hastily duck under branches and over bushes, fighting to get to the car that seems to glow blue under the sunlight, far off in the distance.

The most unnerving thing is the sound of boots following behind you a far way off, but still close enough for their owners to catch a glimpse of three fleeing criminals. You are glad for Jooheon’s iron grip on your hand, and for his long legs that were much faster than yours, because you are sure you wouldn’t have made it out of the trees and, finally to the safety of your blue sedan. 

All three frames stumble into the car with urgency, with pounding hearts and ragged breaths. You fall into the passenger seat and Jooheon seating himself in the driver’s. Changkyun is restless in the back, fingers gripping the leather seats and demanding you  _go go go!_

The car screams when Jooheon slams his foot upon the gas pedal, and shoots down the road with a massive cloud of dust in its wake. You register that you are an absolute  _mess,_ forehead beaded in sweat, hands shaking, mind frantic, yet you don’t realize you’ve been laughing this entire time. 

Jooheon glances over at you with the same smile and wild eyes, high off the adrenaline that is just enough to overpower the panic.

“Having fun there, kitten?”

“Yes,” you breathe, earning a disbelieving laugh from Changkyun behind you.  Jooheon smiles fully at you then, maybe in half pride, half fascination, and you realize that constantly feeling this rush of danger brought with and around him would be enough for you to finally feel alive.

“The other boys would like you. You should meet them.”

Your buzzing mind falters at his words, already distracted by the sound of police sirens growing fainter in the distance the longer Jooheon’s foot remained flat on the gas pedal. You wonder if his words are meant to be an invitation of some sorts, but you figure you have no choice of refusing. You cannot go back into the city unless you want to be caught easily by the police and, besides, you think you can get used being by his side. 

“Yes, I should.”

 


End file.
